Make it Last
by Novelist Pup
Summary: Seven stories for Yullen Week. Seventh, Foreign theme. "Allen didn't see the problem. Even if it was a meal of the...bug variety, it was still quite delicious. Kanda was such a wimp at the most peculiar times."
1. Spice it Up

**Spice it Up**

First story for Yullen Week (lolololol oh that pairing name), and I'm glad I am participating! :D I dedicate all of these stories to my loving spouse, Divva, because she oddly believes in me all the time. Love you! :3

Seasonal theme, and I'm thinking…Alternate Universe. :D Thanks for plot convenience!

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

"I hate spicy foods," Kanda muttered in a tone that sounded oddly enough like he was ready to start complaining. "Don't put any of that shit in my bowl."

"Have you even _tried_ spicy foods to whine, Kanda?" Allen asked, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, really, your chosen diet is rather limited. Besides, it's cold outside. It'll heat us up."

"Shut the hell _up_." The Japanese man crossed his arms, leaning forward on the dining room table. "Just, don't put any of that—whoa, what the hell? Aren't you listening to me?"

"Not really." A plastic cylinder of red pepper was upsided into the soup pot, and Allen hummed to an well-known Christmas beat as he ran a finger over the text in the cookbook beside him. "Oh, it says that I'm supposed to add cayenne pepper. That's good for getting your blood flowing, you should know."

Kanda narrowed his eyes. "Is it spicy?" he asked suspiciously.

"A tad. But, you'll barely even taste it!" The British teenager searched the cabinets of his kitchen with a smile, and pulled out a small container of red powder.

"It looks _really_ spicy." Kanda was not impressed. "I won't eat it."

"Then you can simply starve, because I don't know what this _soba_ you speak of is."

"It's better than this shit, that's for sure." The twenty-year-old man barely held back a wince as the container was dumped into the pot. "If this crap is spicy, I'm killing you. Just so you know."

"Well, you keep saying that, but you never go through with it. Poor boy, it's such a shame that God bestowed you with a brain that you barely know how to use." Allen clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disdain. "Now, sit still and keep that hole of yours shut."

"I'd like to shut _your_ hole."

Allen paused. "That sounded like a really disturbing come-on," he commented, snickering. "Don't say it again."

"Don't tell me what to say and what not to say." Kanda pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "Why is there water at the edge of my eyes?" he asked irritably.

"Oh, that's probably the air." The seventeen-year-old grinned. "You're just ultrasensitive to the cayenne, don't worry."

He meant it, but the older man just kept _complaining_. Lord, is there anything in his life that won't make him whine?

"You just added a fucking _red pepper_ to the pot!" Kanda snapped, pointing at said pot accusingly.

"Oh, calm down. It's for flavor."

"You're trying to kill me, little punk."

And this is why Allen remembers why no one his age really dates older men. Because they _complain_ about everything, and the sex is barely enough to make him ignore that. Yet, even if it's barely, it's still enough.

Plus, he was ridiculously _hot_, and that was the only positive adjective in his dictionary when it came to Kanda.

"Mm hmm," Allen hummed in agreement, smiling at his never-stopping-the-bitching lover. "I'm always trying to kill you, silly man. Now, be quiet, we're almost done." He turned the heat up to maximum, and the gas flame erupted around the pot.

"What the fuck. I give up." Kanda waved a hand in dismissal. "I bet this will rape my tongue, you little bastard."

"Such verbal abuse," the white-haired boy said, tutting in disdain. "I swear, have you no faith in me?"

"I don't."

"Then that's a personal problem."

"I could've sworn we broke up or something."

Allen sighed. "Well, yes, I constantly try to get rid of you, but like a sad, pitiful puppy, you keep ending back up on my doorstep." He smirked, his gray eyes heavily lidded. "You're just lucky Cross isn't here, or your dogged arse would be back out on the cold, frozen mat, and I doubt you'd be very welcome."

"Hey. Shut up." The Japanese man stretched his arms back. "If you'd ditch the old man, we wouldn't be _having_ this problem, brat."

"What? Holding hands behind the couch when he's here? Kissing at small intervals of time when he isn't looking? Fucking in your car's backseat and in the bathroom?" Allen huffed. "I always thought we were rather adventurous in our affair."

"Oh my _God_ you do not shut up. Ever. What the fuck?"

"It's done!" Allen smiled gleefully as he turned the heat down to low, and he reached into his cupboard for a bowl. "I swear, you're gonna love it."

"If I die, you're first on the 'Asses to be Haunted' list."

"Lavi?"

"He's number two, but whatever." Kanda rapped his fingers against the flat surface of the table impatiently. "C'mon, just give me a damn bowl."

"Bipolar arse," the British teenager stated with a grin, dipping a spoon into the pot. The twenty-year-old narrowed his eyes at the way the spoon almost seemed to deteriorate within the unhealthily red soup. "Stop looking so bloody suspicious, prick. Just eat."

"Urgh." The bowl was slid in front of him, and Kanda was not very placated at the way the soup still seemed to boil, even away from the heat. A large bubble popped almost angrily, and Allen placed a spoon in his hand. "You can do it," he encouraged with a smile. "It's just a bowl of soup."

"I'm going to die."

"Well, if you do die from a bowl of soup," Allen commented idly. "Then that'll show me how much of a man you really were. I always assumed that you'd die from something more…ah…_hardcore_."

"Like a porno?" Whoa, what the hell has _this_ kid been watching?

"Sure, why not. Now, quit being such a pansy and eat the bloody soup."

"Che'yeah, bloody is right." Kanda dipped the spoon into the red liquid slowly, his eyes watering from the overload of this 'cayenne pepper'. It was _so_ poisoned, the little brat.

He brought it to his lips slowly, trying to ignore the pure _redness_ of it.

The soup went down his throat.

He paused.

Allen looked interested. "So, how is it?" he asked.

His reply was only a strangled sob, and Kanda tore out of his chair, gripping his throat.

"Hot?" the teenager asked, grinning.

"I-I-I'll fucking _kill_ you—" Kanda's voice ran out as he frantically searched for liquid, and any type.

His younger lover rolled his eyes and leaned over his bowl of soup, taking a sip straight from the source of his pain. "Hmm…" he hummed in thought. "Maybe I seasoned it a little _too_ much."

Kanda, who at this point had his head dunked underneath the kitchen sink's faucet, glared at him from between wet bangs. "Oh, fuck you," he rasped, coughing lowly in his throat. "This is the last time."

"Aww," Allen sighed. "I really wanted to make a nice soup for you for the Christmas spirit."

"Yeah, well, you failed. Come on, we're going out." The Japanese man ripped a paper towel from the roll and tried to wipe his face with dignity.

"Going out _where_? It's freezing!"

"Quit complaining and put on your fucking _jacket_. The old man's due back any minute and I ain't choking on any more of that shit you call soup for the life of me." Kanda glared for emphasis.

Allen made a 'tsk' sound in disdain. "Such harsh words," he murmured, walking towards the doorway for the coat rack. "I hope we're going somewhere warm."

"And if we aren't, well," Kanda shrugged on his own jacket. "Then just know that my car has a heater. We'll just ride."

"That sounds oddly romantic and entirely unlike you."

"Well, so does your face." He huffed. "Now, let's go."

**END**

* * *

D'aww the homo.

Whoa, that's the closest thing to gay sex I've gotten to in, like, five months! The mere mention of it! I think I need to up my game, yeah. :D


	2. Write it To

**Write it To**

Letters and Hats theme, and it was a lot of fun to write.

Canon, please. :D

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

With it being so close to the holiday, the telephone lines are extremely busy in the Order, unfortunately. So, I feel the only proper way to express my annoyance at your existence is through post. You should thank Komui for giving me your location, especially. Oh, and many thanks to Timcanpy for being nice enough to deliver this letter to you! Be sure to give him a snack.

So, I heard you won't be back for Christmas.

Why?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Because this mission is more important than you.

_-Kanda_

* * *

Even my birthday? Because, regardless of our differences, I'd always celebrate your birthday.

Jerk. You didn't tip Timcanpy.

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

I care less about my birthday than I actually do for _yours_.

Brat. I don't tip _golems_. Stupid.

-_Kanda_

* * *

I sent you a hat.

Straight from Saint Nicholas, and with loves of platonic love. From Lavi, of course.

Here's to hoping you wear it!

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Hey.

Kill yourself.

_-Kanda_

* * *

Well, where in the world is your holiday spirit?

It's the Christmas season. Now, maybe you aren't as Christian as the rest of us, but really. Take a break, drink some nonalcoholic beverage. (Alcohol is for chumps, didn't you know?)

I had also heard that Rome is very nice this time of year. True?

_-Allen Walker_

* * *

Yeah, well, it's nice until an Akuma chomps you in the ass.

That's not very nice, just so you know, bean sprout.

-_Kanda_

* * *

My name is Allen.

Here, let me sign the bottom of the card.

-_**Allen Walker**_

* * *

It's funny because I care more about drowning in an icy river.

(Why the fuck am I in Venice anyway?)

-_Kanda_

* * *

When did you get to Venice? Weren't you just in Rome?

Well, the date is about two days ago. You move fast, and I'm talking (well, writing) in the travel sense.

Seriously, what _is_ in Venice?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Water.

-_Kanda_

* * *

Is that all?

I mean, there must be something more. Like, aren't there beautiful buildings and fantastic structures, not to mention the proximity to the Mediterranean, which is something impressive to note by itself.

Oh, right, are you wearing the hat? Lavi was wondering.

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

If I say there's water, then there's fckig water.

I burned the hat.

I was very warm.

_-Kanda_

* * *

You misspelled "fucking", you profane jerk.

Note to you: Last time I try to spend money on you.

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

I didn't want it anyway.

Who were _you_ trying to impress?

-_Kanda_

--And the ink smudged, little brat.

* * *

Not you, prick.

Honestly, how does it feel to live so long without a brain _or_ a heart?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

How does it feel to hit puberty?

Oh, wait, you can't answer that yet. Sorry.

-_Kanda_

* * *

I hope you drown in the beautiful waters of Venice.

Really.

_-Allen Walker_

* * *

Its jst watrr.

I _waht_ to drnwn.

I'm fukig tird of swiming.

-_Knnda_

* * *

Your ink is _terribly_ smudged. And the paper is rather wet, even _after_ being delivered.

Did you try to write that in the river or something like it?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Yes.

-_Kanda_

* * *

I could tell.

I'm still rather irked that you burned the hat.

Really, what was the _point_ of that?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

What's the point of your existence?

-_Kanda_

--Oh, and the mission's almost over. Found the Innocence. Why I am telling you, I don't even know.

* * *

To put a smile on your face.

(Hmm, now I sound oddly enough like Lavi.)

(I'm vaguely uncomfortable with that.)

And, congratulations on finding the Innocence. Where was it?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

You're failing.

-_Kanda_

--It was underneath the water. I had to take off my shirt to get it.

* * *

I got your hat.

That was oddly sweet of you.

Has the water made you delusional?

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Shut up.

Merry Early Christmas. Or something. I'm about to drown some more, because the oarsman ended up being a Level Two. Ironically.

-_Kanda_

* * *

Here's to hoping you actually die.

-_Allen Walker_

* * *

Still alive.

Fuck you.

-_Kanda_

* * *

Merry Christmas to you too.

Here, have another hat.

-_Allen Walker_

--Oh, and the festively in-style holiday hat you sent me matches my uniform. Many thanks!

* * *

Thanks for the heat.

-_Kanda_

* * *

Prick.

-_Allen Walker_

**END**

* * *

That was seriously a lot of fun. :D I really love this.

I did a little research (like usual) on mail before writing this. Usually, it took, like, weeks for it to get from the writer to the recipient, but I improvised using DGM's own golem technology. :D Thanks Timcanpy!


	3. Keep it Cold

**Keep it Cold**

Comfort theme, and a view into how odd my sense of humor really is.

Canon, and I feel bad for having to put these kinds of warnings up.

**Disclaimed.  
**

* * *

Allen huffed, a languid cloud of air escaping from between his cold, chapped lips. "Really, your glare, regardless of how heated it is, is seriously not making us any warmer."

"I could say the same for your _face_." Kanda muttered, leaning closer to the cold wooden door as though it were some magical source of warmth. "Shut the hell up."

"Now, you know and _I_ know that me shutting up is a miracle that could only happen once in a lifetime." The British exorcist smiled, rubbing his gloved hands together in hopes of attracting some sort of heat. "And this simply isn't that lifetime, so excuse me while I try to keep myself from dying of boredom as well as hypothermia."

"Oh shit, shut up." Pale hands clenched clothed biceps tighter. "Fuck, I can't feel my hair."

Allen barked a laugh. "Oh, dear Kanda, that was never truly the case," he replied with a smile. "After all, there are no nerves in the hair. Nor in the nails, and I believe eyebrows are also excluded—"

Kanda uncrossed his arms purely to throw a ball of snow at the younger teenager, who dodged it with little to no effort. "If you don't shut up," he growled, his breath framing his handsome face. "I'll shut you up. Personally."

"Hmm." The cursed exorcist nodded, tapping a finger on his numb chin. "Body heat. This just might work."

"What?"

"Oh, you just gave me a terribly genius idea. Up, up," Allen stood up, wincing as his legs refreshed the blood that should've been warming him up. "And, away."

Kanda watched him with narrowed eyes, suspicious at the mere movements of the white-haired boy. "Okay. What the hell?"

"Body heat, Kanda. Body heat." Gray eyes rolled in the motions that claimed Kanda's idiocy to be almost endearing. "It goes kind of like this—"

He sat next to Kanda, arm brushing against the older man's own.

Kanda scooted away. "Oh hell no," he snapped, crossing his arms tightly. "I can get my own damn body heat!"

"Actually, no you can't." Allen huffed. "That's the point of it being a more shared type of intimacy. Now, stay still, I need to embrace you."

"You can embrace hell, because if you touch me, it's a fuckin' one-way trip." The Japanese exorcist huddled closer to himself. Damn, that wall _was_ pretty freezing.

The younger exorcist clicked his tongue in disdain, rolling his gray eyes. "You're being quite the prick," he said with a smile, crossing his own arms. He utterly loved the way he could see more of his breath than he could actually remember breathing. "It's only until the finder arrives, okay? Wouldn't you hate to freeze to death before retrieving the Innocence? I mean, really, let's wait until the mission is over to die."

"Shut up." Kanda's mind was racing, and it was racing fast. The thing was, it wasn't getting any warmer, and maybe the little punk was on to something.

Or maybe he could attract more heat by rubbing his arms a little faster.

That sounded like a plan.

"Are you bloody _serious_ Kanda?" Allen asked, an eyebrow cocked. "I hope you're not. Really, I don't."

"It's working. I think." Okay, maybe it _wasn't_ working, but that didn't mean the kid had to know.

Allen huffed. "No, it's not. You're just wasting more energy so you can die faster, you idiot. Just, stay still, it'll only be for a moment."

"You know if you touch me, I'm going to kill you right?" He was dead serious. Why wasn't the kid taking him seriously? That offended him.

The British exorcist continued in his disrespect of Kanda's seriousness and sidled up close to Kanda, pressing his side to the Japanese man's. "Now, stay still, and I mean it."

"Why are you _not_ taking me—" Hmm, that was kind of warm. Kanda growled lowly in his throat as his soon-to-be-dead-and-or-dying comrade smiled at him. "See, Kanda? This isn't so bad, now is it?"

"…" the eighteen-year-old nodded. "Yeah, it is. Get the hell off of me." Unfortunately, not even his _body_ was taking him seriously as he sat pressed to the younger boy, the shared warmth becoming quite comfortable.

"Make me."

"You're so dead."

Even when so close together, Allen could still see his breath floating around him like clouds in the blue sky of summer, and while summer was a nice image of comfort (especially the thought of heat), he still felt a little _too_ cold.

"Kanda," he whispered.

The man grunted an acknowledgement, his breath swirling around as well.

"Take off your clothes."

"I'm seriously going to fuck you up." Kanda whispered back, glaring. "Why are you making such _stupid_ suggestions?"

"Well, I'm just going by scientific theorem. The way bare skin conducts heat is _much_ more effective than the obstacle of clothing, and if we _removed_ this obstacle, then we'd—"

"Take that shit to the Science Department, bean sprout," the older exorcist interrupted immediately, glaring in offense. "I don't need to listen to your stupid voice while you spout your cracked up _theorems_."

"Hmph." Allen huffed, insulted. "Well, then can I at least embrace you?"

"No. Why won't you just _shut up_?" That would be a miracle from the God a few people he knows hate so much, that's for sure.

The silence in the small, rickety cabin stretched for minutes, with the only truly sound being the harsh winds outside and the languid breaths inside.

"This would be so much more effective if we took off our clothes."

"_Shut. Up._"

**END**

* * *

Abrupt? Yes.

Am I rushing? Yes.

Am I on punishment? Yes. (Kind of. Manual labor had to be a very yes, though.)

Am I trying my limits here? Yes.

Am I sorry? Kind of. I rather liked the entirety of the fic, though, even if my ending (which is my weakest spot) sucks. I love you all, I swear! :3


	4. Shout it Out!

**Shout it Out!**

Protest theme, Yullen Week.

AU, and, look out, the 1960s!

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

"_I am woman!_" the crowd shouted loudly in front of the New York City Hall, picket posters held up high. "_Hear me roar!_"

It's 1964, it's a freezing cold December day, and Allen Walker is stuck outside, toting a sign for a movement he didn't sign up for. He's nineteen-years-old, a _boy_, and surrounded by angry, determined women.

What a work of _art_ today is.

"_I am invincible!_" he shouted, knowing the blow to his masculinity hurt with more pain than he would admit to his best friend. "_I can do anything! I am woman!_"

The leader of this organized protest, Lenalee Lee, held up a megaphone with a threatening stance. "Can you hear this?!" she called, standing high on the brass base of a statue. "Can you ignore this?!"

She stepped down, a determined look in her eyes. "What you see here," she continued. "Is the congregation of women who don't want _you_ interrupting our lives with _your_ laws! How does it go, girls?!"

"_Not the church, not the state!_" the protesters shouted, their signs raised up high. "_Women must decide their fate!_"

Allen licked his chapped lips, shaking his head. He agreed that women's rights were an important goal to be reached, but he can't say that he enjoys this too much.

"That was great!" Lenalee said with a smile, holding up a thumb in approval. "But," she turned back to the city hall with narrowed eyes. "I think they didn't hear you. Hey, Mister Mayor, dig this!" The twenty-year-old woman inhaled in an overly exaggerated breath. "_1, 2, 3, 4!_" she shouted into the megaphone.

"_We won't take it anymore!_" the protesters followed up, Allen being extremely reluctant. "_5, 6, 7, 8, separate the church and state!_"

"Yeah!" Lenalee hopped down from the statue, and squared her shoulders confidently. "All right, girls," she said with a cheerful smile. "That was _far out!_ Wow, this one might be the best protest yet."

Allen placed his picket sign against his leg and shuddered from the cold. His red scarf couldn't even protect him like it should have. "Lenalee," he started in a whining tone.

"Allen, oh man!" the Chinese woman trotted up to him and hugged him tightly. "Thanks a ton for doing this! You don't know how much it means to me."

"Uhm, its okay," he licked his cold, dry lips again. At the corner of his eye, he noticed two men watching them with more interest than necessary. "I thought there would be more guys."

"Yeah, well, so did I." Lenalee shook her head. "Don't sweat it, Al, we've got all the people we need."

"Errm right. Am I the only guy?"

"Well, yeah, but it's all good."

"Lenalee!" another woman cried, stepping up quickly. "I'm really sorry, but my sign broke…" The brunette held up a broken picket sign, with the board stating **EQUAL RIGHTS FOR MEN **_**AND**_** WOMEN!**

Lenalee sighed, grinning. "No problem, Miranda," she said. "Just use mine."

"No," Allen cut in, rubbing his gloved hands together for heat. "Better yet, Miss Lotto, use _mine_." He motioned towards his sign that lay on the ground pitifully. He bent down and picked it up, handing it to her with a welcoming smile.

Miranda took it with a shy twitch of her lips. "Thank you," she thanked gratefully, and she turned back to go her spot in the crowd.

The protest leader narrowed her eyes. "You weren't doing that to get out of this, were you?"

"Of course not." Can she see into his mind?

"Whatever. Here," she handed him her sign, smiling. "Keep it up, buddy."

"Ugh." He tightened his scarf around his neck. "Right."

"Okay!" she raised the megaphone to her lips and walked through the town square, raising her fist powerfully. "_What do we want?!_" she asked the protest.

"_Equal rights!_"

"_When do we want it?!_"

"_NOW!_"

This was simply not his scene. Allen sighed as he held the sign up high. Lenalee truly was lucky that he loved her like a sister, and he would do anything for her.

Even…_this_.

"_Women united_," the crowd shouted, including him with a grimace. "_Can never be defeated!_"

Oh God. Those two creeps sitting on the hood of their stupid red Buick Lesabre were laughing at them. Or, at least the redhead one was.

"_Hey, hey,_" More chanting, for the love of _God_. "_Mister, mister! Get your laws off of my sister!_"

Allen felt a blush creep up his cheeks as the two kept watching and the one kept laughing. He had to confront this, because even if he hated standing in the close to zero degree weather for a Women's Rights Movement protest, he was still a firm believer in those rights.

"Lenalee!" he called, waving his hand and the sign. The woman, after a few moments looked over at him. "I'm going over there!" he announced, New York City traffic making him have to speak louder than necessary. He pointed at the two guys.

She gave him a thumb up.

He smiled at her and made a fake salute with two fingers. Then, he pivoted on his heel, and stalked with partly numb legs to the two men.

And, to his surprise, one was exceedingly good looking. Not that the other wasn't, but this one exceeded expectations.

"May I help you two?" he asked, annoyed.

The redhead, whom up-close he discovered sported an eye-patch and a bright smile, blinked at him. "Hey, aren't you that one chick—"

"I'm not a girl." Allen interrupted immediately.

The dark-haired one (also known as Mr. _Exceeds-Expectations_), snorted. "Could'a f-f-fooled me," he grumbled, his deep voice obviously shaky from the cold.

Allen narrowed his eyes. "What was that?" he asked. "I couldn't hear you over the _st-st-stutter_ in your voice. Speak clearly."

"I'll kick your ass, punk."

"Cool out, Yuu. Well, not so much, since it's like ninety-degrees below zero or something." The redhead held out a hand. "I'm Lavi, and I'm really sorry 'bout calling you a girl." He patted his associate on the shoulder. "This is Yuu Kanda, but you can call him Kanda. He was going on and on about how cute you were, man, seriously."

Kanda scowled. "I'll throw you into traffic, you fucking _liar_."

"Allen Walker," Allen introduced himself, nodding at the both of them. "And, I don't exactly care. Except, I can't have you two laughing at this, because it's really serious."

"What? Women's rights?" Lavi nodded. "Of course it's serious! Never thought it wasn't."

"Then, why were you laughing?"

"Because you look like a loser," Kanda cut in. "Every time they started a chant, you'd look like someone was stabbing you in the heart or something. It's fucking _hilarious_." But, he was never laughing, so that made Allen think about how Mr. _Exceeds-Expectations_ is really quite weird.

"Well," he said instead. "I'd like to see _you_ do it. It's really bloody hard to do!"

"Yeah right." Kanda shook his head. "Getting knocked by the police just isn't my style."

"And I'm just here for the ladies," Lavi followed up, shrugging. "You're just a real gone cat, man."

Allen rolled his eyes. Typical.

"Well, if you're just going to stand around, then maybe you should just go home and do that—"

"What's going on, Al?" Lenalee had taken the time out of her shouts and chants to come over to Allen. How touching. "Who are these guys?"

Allen huffed. "Oh, they're just—"

"Lavi," Lavi introduced himself, hopping off the hood of the Buick. He smiled charmingly, holding out his hand with flawless timing. "A pleasure to meet you…?"

Lenalee shook his hand. "Lenalee Lee. Who's he?" She pointed at Kanda, who still sat huddled on the hood.

"Oh, he's just Kanda. But, more on _you_—"

"Are these friends of yours?" the Chinese woman asked Allen, who looked over at the two men with a bit of disdain.

"Not exactly—"

"What? No way!" Lavi swung an arm around Allen's shoulders, grinning. "We're, like, the best of friends! Tell'em, Allen, _buddy_!"

"Wha—" The younger man tried to wriggle out of the tall redhead's grip, but he was sort of failing.

Lenalee looked at the two. "Allen," she started, a smile blooming on her face. "You got _friends_ to help out our cause…that's so down!"

"But, Lenalee, wait—"

"We'd be glad to help!" Lavi exclaimed, nodding in agreement with himself. "Wouldn't we, Yuu-baby?"

"I'd be glad if you died early." Kanda replied darkly, obviously annoyed with his services being given away so easily.

"But, it's for women's rights!" the redhead whined, his tone suggesting another reason though.

It didn't take much for Allen to guess _what_, though. "No, if you don't want to help us," he replied, waving a hand in dismissal. "Then, you simply don't have to. After all," he smirked. "It takes a real man to stand up for women's rights."

Lenalee stared at her younger friend, and her arms shot out to embrace him tightly. "I totally love you," she murmured in his hair. "You know that right?"

"That's why I'm out here," he replied with a smile. "Because I love you too."

"Wait, did this punk just say I'm not a man?" Kanda spoke up, narrowing his eyes.

Lavi snickered. "Slow down, Lightening," he teased. "You're going too fast for us dopes."

"Shut up," he hopped off the hood with a scowl and he stepped up to Allen.

It was a slight understatement to say that Allen was a bit annoyed at how he had to look up to see into his eyes.

"Gimme that sign, dweeb," the dark-haired man snapped, snatching the sign from his hands. He looked at Lenalee. "How do I do this?"

"Just protest. Let them know that," Lenalee brought the megaphone to her lips. "_What do we want?!_"

"Equal rights!" Lavi shouted. The Chinese woman winked at him. "_When do we want it?!_"

"NOW!"

"Then, you're set, guy." The protest leader patted the two newest participants on the shoulders. "I'm really thankful for you guys," she said sincerely with a smile. "Allen is too. He was so bumped out that he was the only guy."

"Barely." Kanda muttered. Allen glared at him.

"Okay! I'll be over here—" And she walked away towards the slowly thinning crowd. The weather outside was truly frightful.

Lavi turned to Allen immediately. "Please," he begged. "Please, please, _please_ tell me that's not your girl!"

"Err, no!" the British teenager was offended at the very thought. "She's my best friend."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty? Yes, she's twenty." He nodded in agreement with himself.

The redhead grinned harder, letting out a whoop. "Sweet!" he exclaimed. "I'm only twenty-three!"

Kanda rolled his eyes and ignored the both of them, stalking towards the crowd.

Allen cocked an eyebrow. So, maybe Mr. _Exceeds-Expectations_ was a little sensitive towards his masculinity? He snorted. Well, with hair like that, it was expected.

"_9, 5, 3, 1,_" Lenalee was shouting, walking around. "_We won't stop until we've won!_"

"_1, 3, 5, 9,_" the protesters chorused, with the cheering deep voice of Lavi's being one of the loudest. How in the world did he get the rhyme scheme down that quickly? "_We'll be right back every time!_"

Why won't the mayor just _come_? He was getting _tired_ of standing out in this freezing cold.

"_Gay, straight, black, white_—" he shouted loudly, moving closer to the crowd and hoping the godforsaken council would just come out and _listen_ to them. "—_All unite for women's rights!_"

Kanda cocked an eyebrow at him. "Still got that stabbed look, punk," he commented, waving the sign with an almost violent intensity.

"Well," Allen replied, his breath clouding around his face. "I'm bloody _cold_ and I can't feel my _legs_ and my knickers are _freezing_."

"Whoa. You're _English_?"

"You couldn't tell?" What an idiot.

"Yeah, well, your accent started showing." Kanda shrugged. "How long does it usually take for the heat to bust you?"

Heat. That was a nice thought. "Heat? Oh, you must mean the police," the white-haired teenager shrugged, running his numb fingers through his hair. "Well, Lenalee says that they usually get the mayor out after two hours of this. From what I experienced, it's more like five, but whatever." He sighed. "But, the beat might be feeling a little holiday joy, so they'll possibly stop by."

"Possibly?" the dark-haired man scoffed. "There are a bunch of chicks and a few guys parading around town square in the snow with fucking _signs_. You think they give a fuck about the first amendment?"

"Err—"

"They don't. They're going to bust this party," Kanda held his sign up higher. "So, don't punk out if they do."

"You prick, how would you—"

And, speak of the devil, there was the loving sound of a police siren now. The black and white vehicles of the police force cruisers drove into place, surrounding the crowd artfully.

The protesters, with a few cries of panic, began to disperse, while Lenalee stood her ground bravely in front of the cars. Lavi was practically jumping up and down as he grinned at the actions of the woman.

Allen glared at the older man. "You _prick_."

"Hey, I warned you." Kanda rubbed his nose, which was turning slightly red at the tip from all of the cold. "Man, where the hell is Lavi?"

"The redhead?" the nineteen-year-old pointed forward. "Isn't that him right there?"

"Yeah." He walked forward, shouldering the sign. Allen followed him, because Lenalee was in the same place, and then a police officer stepped out of his black and white Plymouth Fury cruiser.

The policeman, a large man with dark skin with a bronze tint, stood in front of the Chinese woman, shaking his head as though this were a regular occurrence.

(Allen could put his money on that: yes, it _was_.)

"Miss Lee," he started in a deep voice that had years of patience on his side. "You've got to stop this at some point. The mayor, well, he isn't too impressed, and it'll be Christmas in two days. I've got—"

"Bump the mayor!" Lenalee retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. "If we won't make a difference for women in New York City, then _I_ will!"

The officer sighed. "This isn't the first time we've had this talk, Miss Lee," he said calmly.

"I know, I know, Copper Marie." She huffed, her breath swirling around her face in slow white clouds. "It won't be the last though, not until I can look a man in the eyes without getting in so much damn trouble. You wouldn't understand, though, being a man yourself."

"Right _on_," Lavi cheered, pumping a fist at his side.

Marie rubbed his clean chin. "I am a man," he admitted with a smile. "And, that isn't changing anytime soon. But, like I was saying before," he scratched underneath his hat. "You've got a choice." He sounded awfully tired, and Allen was so down with that.

Lenalee nodded in understanding. "Lay it on me," she said in a determined tone.

"Well, you can either stop, like Mayor Earl _wants_ you to," Marie smiled thinly. "Or, you could come with me to the big house. I mean, you'd only be in there for a day or until someone posts bail later on, but still."

Allen, even through his love of the woman and his appreciation for women and their headstrong determination, hoped to his Protestant God that the woman would have some _common sense_ and just stop for now.

Kanda whistled, impressed. "Man," he said lowly, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His voice picked up that amusing stutter again from the cold. "If-f-f I w-w-were her, I'd-d go to j-j-jail."

"Wh-wh-what?" Allen mocked, annoyed at the mere suggestion. Really, the woman was radical, but she was also smart.

"Shut up," the man sniffed, insulted. "That's why y-you're, l-like, f-f-five foot one."

"It's actually five foot seven, if you'd like to get technical."

Lenalee waved her arms wildly, catching the quietly arguing duo's attention. "Hey!" she exclaimed, grinning. "I'm going to _jail_!" She sounded _way_ too excited about that.

Allen almost snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at her. "_Why_?" he whined, reserving the right to feel childish even if he was turning twenty in, like, two days. "Why do you want to go to the pound?"

"If the mayor wants me to give up, then it's solid. I'll just go to the big house instead." She looked pointedly at Lavi. "Hey, what's your name?" Marie shook his head in amusement.

"Me?" Lavi pointed at himself. He grinned. "Oh, yeah, me. The name's Lavi, Missus Lee."

"Do you have a car?"

Where was Lenalee going with this, Allen asked himself suspiciously.

Lavi just about puffed up in pride. "Yep," he answered gleefully. "A Six-O authentic Buick Lesabre, just about new and runs like a dream."

"Do me a favor," Lenalee said, smiling bashfully. Marie held the back door of the cruiser open for her. "You and your friend, the long-haired one, take Allen to dinner. I promised him I would, but maybe I won't make it. Oh, and Allen!" She waved at him. "Be sure to be back later after you eat to post my bail!"

Kanda gritted his teeth, obviously annoyed with something, and stalked over to the police cruiser quickly. "Hey, Miss Solid," he called, catching her before she ducked into the backseat. "When's y-your next p-protest shit?"

Oh my God. Oh my _God_.

_Why_? Why did this prick that Allen barely knew have to ask a question like that? Now he'll _never_ get warm, and he'll die of hypothermia.

Damn him.

"Check with Allen," Lenalee answered with a bright smile. "I always keep him hyped."

"All right. See you."

"Bye!" Marie closed the door behind her, and he tipped his hat at the remaining crowd with a smile. "A good day, and a Merry Christmas," he said kindly, getting into the car himself.

Lavi sighed, his clouded breath hanging around his face wispily. "She's the deal," he said happily. "The real one, Grade-A, primo."

"F-f-fucking fantastic," Kanda rubbed his red nose once more, sniffling. "C-can we g-get into the c-c-car now? It's fucking c-c-cold out-t here!"

"Y-y-yeah." Sometimes, the horse gets you. "I mean, err, yeah."

"Sure, whatever." The dark-haired man stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. "What kinds of food do you like, punk?"

"Food?" Mmm, food. That sounded great about this point. "Ah, well, I enjoy all kinds really."

"Then we're g-going to Skippy's." Kanda kicked the bender of the Buick, inciting a squawk of injustice from Lavi. "Hey, hodad, open the d-damn car!"

"Shaddup," the redhead jammed his key into the driver's side lock and twisted it. Opening the door with a smile, he pushed the front seat forward to make room for the back. "Hey, Al, buddy. Hop in!"

"Err, okay?" Allen climbed into the back of the somewhat warmer car, feeling grateful. His original plan was taking the bus, but this is cool too. "Thank you."

"Not a problem. Yuu, get in the damn car!"

"Don't rush me!" Kanda slid into the passenger seat, slamming the car door. "Fuck, turn on the heat, and _pronto_!"

"Yeah, yeah." Lavi revved up the ignition loudly. "So, Al, where're we goin'? And, when're we off to bail out Missus Lee?"

"Whenever you'd like." The nineteen-year-old's stomach growled loudly. "But, err, Skippy's wouldn't be too bad right now."

"Che'yeah," Kanda sniffled a little more. "Let's go fast, I need a malt."

"In _this_ weather?"

"Hey. Don't judge me."

"I can't. I'm a protester for Women's Rights, and usually the only guy." Allen shrugged lowly, not trying to dislodge his crossed arms. "I would simply have no right."

"Just so we've got that straight." The dark-haired man banged the dashboard. "Lay some scratch! Go faster!"

"Hey! She goes like a Sano, but rolls like a tiger. Let her warm up, first!"

Kanda huffed.

"It's fucking freezing, and I don't want to shout."

"But—"

"Quit protesting—" Kanda sneezed, and Allen muttered a quick 'bless you'. "—just go."

**END**

* * *

LAWL ALL-TIME FAVORITE.

Seriously.

If I weren't in so much love with the eighties, stuff like AWYWI would probably take place in the next best time: the 60s. (Note to self: :D) (But, it'd be called "Good Vibes")

I luff you, Fonz. :D (Ask for help if you don't understand the slang, please. D: People usually don't, and end up confused around me)

Kanda with a stutter made me smile more than you will ever know. :) (Oh, and I'm not the biggest fan of Lavi/Lenalee, (for there was only one writer who could make me read it and stay impressed) nor is my wife a fan at all, but it helped the story move along more. D: Sorry, dear!)


	5. Slide it Down

**Slide it Down**

Playground theme, Yullen Week.

AU, because I don't know what a 19th Century playground looks like. I keep thinking it's this super dangerous place, like there are freaking traps everywhere. Like, instead of a regular swing, there are, like, blades and shit on the edges, and the sandbox is a spikebox with fucking _pikes_ jutting out the ground and the slide is this super-duper-dangerous slab of metal with cheese grater-like ordered lumps.

Yeah. I'm sticking with AU.

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

So, one day, in the near end of December, Yuu Kanda fell asleep.

Not that the guy was a complete insomniac, and didn't sleep for the world. Allen was pretty sure Mr. Kanda of the pricks got a nice sleep every night after kicking puppies and stealing money from the homeless.

No, the thing is this: Kanda fell asleep on a slide.

And, in a bout of _serious business_, a picture was mandatory.

"Where the hell is that bloody phone?" Allen Walker muttered, patting down his pants (which, in retrospect, were already tight enough to the point where one glance would've been able to figure out whether or not there was a phone in the pockets). "I need a picture."

It was a small slide, made for small children, and the not-so-small nineteen-year-old high school graduate was just, well, _sleeping_ on it. His arms hung limply over the sides of the folded slab of metal, and his legs stretched out, heels digging into the sand.

On a scale from one to ten, Allen had to give the display an eleven in endearingly pitiful.

"Oo," he cooed, pleased. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his thin, small phone. "Found it." The British teenager flipped open the phone and set it to camera mode. Aiming the lens at the sleeping Japanese teenager, he smiled. "Stay still, twat."

_Click_.

"Mm hmm," Allen hummed, grinning. He pocketed his phone. "This is _perfect_. I'd love to see him tease my height _now_."

Of course, he also knew that there was a one in a thousand chance that Kanda would directly _care_. Really, he knew the prick like the back of his disfigured hand, and he knows that hand like the alphabet.

Regardless, Kanda was a prick, but now Allen had blackmail (of sorts) material. He loves blackmailing.

The sixteen-year-old clicked his tongue in disdain as the steady rise and fall of Kanda's chest didn't miss a beat, and he placed his hands on his hips.

"Wake up," he called, checking his watch (that was broken, but it was a force of habit). "Prick, twat, wake up." He kicked the metal slide.

"Mmmrr," Kanda groaned, trying to turn over in the very, _very_ limited space he had.

Allen had this horrible urge to laugh.

Oh, why even kid himself? He did so anyway. It's not like Kanda could hurt him for _laughing_.

"Hrmmm," the nineteen-year-old hummed grouchily. One dark-blue eye opened. "Damn, I knew it was you," he said wispily, obviously still somewhat asleep. "It's that fucking accent, I swear. Makes me want to kick someone's ass most of the time. Namely, ah, shit, what's that guy's name? Oh, yeah, _you_."

"Oh, shut it, prick." The white-haired teenager rolled his eyes with a smile. "How was your sleep?"

Kanda tried to sit up straight. "I can't feel my fucking neck. _Shit_."

Allen choked back a snicker, somehow.

"Damn," the older teenager rubbed the back of his neck, a scowl on his face. He was muttering to himself loudly, cursing in a manner that reminded Allen of a homosexual sailor. "That was a total fuckin' accident. Should've sat on the goddamn swings instead."

"Right, because that would've had such a better effect." He would've paid _good_ money to see the nineteen-year-old asleep on a moving swing. That was some embarrassing stuff by itself, even if the slide is pitiful enough. "What's the point by the way?"

"What's the point of what?" Kanda cocked an eyebrow. "Your face? I don't know the point of it either. It's ugly as hell, that's for sure."

"Oh, you _thought_ it was ugly." Allen crossed his arms. "Now, _madame_, what was the point of you sleeping on the slide?" The loser.

"Because I was tired, dipshit." The Japanese teenager waved a hand at him dismissively. "You were taking way too long to get here."

"You told me to come at four!"

"The _fuck_?" Kanda pointed at his own wristwatch. "It's seven-_forty_. How do you feel about that?"

"Like wondering why am I here anyway. So, why am I here anyway?" Allen asked, threading his gloved fingers through his white strands of hair.

"Oh. Uh, I forgot." Kanda shrugged. "Should've come here on time."

Allen graced him with a look of indifferent annoyance, as contradictory as it sounded. "You _do_ realize that I live thirty minutes away, right?" the sixteen-year-old asked slowly, as though Kanda were a special kind of idiot.

Which was sad, because in Allen's opinion, he kind of was.

Well, at least the idiot part. Special? Not so much.

But, on the plus side, he was good-looking, and that was the only reason the white-haired boy never went through with his many plans leading to Kanda's imminent demise.

"Yeah, I know where you live." Kanda stretched, and the sounds of bones popping back into place reverberated loudly in the partially empty playground.

Allen grimaced. "Eww." Talk about _yuck_. Now he knew where every bone in the prick's body went, just by ear.

"_Eww_," the older teen mimicked in a voice one octave higher than usual. "Grow up, brat. So, what, you want me to take you home?"

"Well, it'd be really _nice_, to tell you the truth." If he didn't get that, then Allen was prepared to spell it out in Simple English.

"Hmph." Kanda eyed Allen's jeans with a little too much interest for the sixteen-year-old to be comfortable. "Hey. Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I _told_ you to. Now, just do it."

Allen stepped closer to Kanda reluctantly. "Okay?"

A hand shot out and grabbed his hip, pulling him closer to the older teenager. "—the bloody hell?" he yelped, and Kanda's other hand reached into a back pocket. "Whoa! Uncomfortable, and I'm talking a lot!"

"You little punk," Kanda muttered distractedly. "You thought you'd get away with some shit like that, didn't you?"

"What are you—Oh!" His cellular phone was suddenly in Kanda's hand, and said man's hand was no longer in his pocket. "Give that back!"

The nineteen-year-old held out a hand to Allen's chest, holding him back as he flipped open the phone and explored the phone's features. "Here we go," he said victoriously. With a few more buttons being pressed, Kanda smirked and handed him back his phone. "Yeah, that picture is totally gone."

"You jerk." Allen snatched his phone back, insulted. He placed his phone in the front pocket this time, in case of emergency. He believed that whatever Kanda just pulled was _totally_ sexual harassment, no matter how ridiculously handsome he was.

"Yeah, yeah." The Japanese teenager stood up, with difficulties since it seemed like his body was quite snug within the slide, and stretched his legs.

Eww. More bones popping into place.

"Quit that."

"_Quit that_."

Allen knew that the more he talked, the more likely it was that Kanda would start his favorite hobby of making fun of his existence.

"So, what's your address again?" Kanda asked, looking at his watch.

"I thought you _knew_." Prick.

"Yeah, well—" he shoved Allen playfully, a false frown on his face. "Maybe I need you to tell me again. Stupid."

Oh dear. Who exactly was _Kanda_ calling stupid? "Mm hmm…" the younger teenager answered instead.

"Hey, don't _mmmrrr_ at me!" Kanda huffed, roughly unlocking the car door. "If you're gonna talk to me, then you're gonna sound it out."

The guy was a total idiot.

But, Allen couldn't help but smile wider when he got into the passenger side of the vehicle.

If nothing else, the prick was good-looking.

He'll work on the other factors later.

**END**

* * *

Damn, that was random.

But, I really quite like this one, because I got to go all out with Allen the insulter and Kanda the "what'chu talkin' 'bout?" prick.

Another day done. :D:D:D:D


	6. Blow it Off

**Blow it Off**

Steam theme, if you know what I mean. (winkwinklolgay)

Today, I'm sticking with Canon. :D

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

If there was anything that could make Kanda vaguely uncomfortable, it was the feeling of a large, hairy man running his fingers down the eighteen-year-old's back.

"You are relaxed, yes?" the aforementioned large, hairy man asked kindly in English, his Turkish accent getting the best of him.

"Uurgh," Kanda groaned, clenching the cushion beneath him. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Stop touching me."

The man chuckled. "You are very much stressed and I am not your _tellak_," he replied. "Basak is coming soon for you, and I will go."

_Tellak_. What the fuck was _that_?

Kanda nodded anyway. "Okay, I said sure," he grounded out. "Just, quit _touching_ me."

"Only if you are relaxed. I will stop touching when you stop being so _stressed_." He accentuated this statement with a hard rub at an especially tense spot on the teenager's back.

"I'm relaxed!" Kanda snapped, trying as hard as possible to de-stress his body. It was _really_ difficult, considering how the odd substitute masseur's beard was brushing lightly against his neck.

If that man didn't back up in _five seconds_, then the exorcist officially took no responsibility for his actions.

He clenched his teeth in barely restrained homicidal intent. Damn the Innocence.

Damn it to _hell_.

"Basak? Basak?" the man's hands paused on his back. "Where have you been? This man has been waiting a very long time for you!"

_Stop touching me. Stop touching me. Holy _shit_ stop touching me._

"It's okay," a voice replied that didn't sound very Turkish at all. "I'm here now. _Teşekkür ederim_."

The bearded man laughed delightedly and patted Kanda's back one more time. "He is very tense," he explained. "You will have a hard job, so be very patient."

"Oh, I will."

And the bearded man walked away, the Japanese exorcist watching the man's feet with a feeling close to illicit joy.

But, before Kanda could count his blessings at the man's departure, the relief was a little _too_ short lived as this _Basak_ climbed onto his back.

_Fuck this. Oh hell no._ Kanda thought on the edge of extreme fury. _When I say stop touching, I _mean_ stop—_

"You're a little _too_ tense," the new masseur commented, kneading his fingers on the hard surface of Kanda's back. "Honestly, haven't you ever heard of taking a break?"

Who the _fuck_ did this punk think he was? Kanda may have been a bit of a hypocrite with this, but the prick had no right to judge him when he didn't even know him! He turned around to voice his thoughts aloud. "Who the hell do you think you are—" his voice trailed off as he caught sight of that godforsaken arm that was recognizable from a thirty-mile-radius. "_Bean sprout_?"

The boy narrowed his eyes, the stupid curse mark on his face scrunching with the movement. He pinched a portion of skin on his back. "My name is Allen—well, _Basak_ here," he replied with a sweet smile. "If you're trying to get me uncovered, then you are not only an arse, but also an _idiot_."

Kanda furrowed his eyebrows in thought. So this is where the little bastard went? The brat went to _Istanbul_—or Constantinople, they really needed to choose a freaking name and stick with it—to become a masseur? He hadn't made contact with the Order in, what, two, three weeks? In the end, they just sent Kanda (fresh from a new mission) to this damned place to get a massage.

A _massage_.

He was getting _molested_ by the bean sprout for a fucking _mission_.

"Quit touching me," Kanda snapped, not understanding why nobody was taking him seriously today.

Those fingers, even the rough skin of that fucked-up arm (Speaking of which, how the _fuck_ did he get into the staff with that weird appendage?), continued their gentle ministrations on the exorcist's back. And, somehow, Kanda felt himself almost-maybe-kind of-sort of-in a way relaxing. If he even remembered how that felt in general.

"The Innocence," Allen started in a quiet whisper, "is here. I tracked it for a week, you see. Not only that, but it's ridiculously close in this bath house."

Kanda grunted a short acknowledgment. "So, what's the problem?" he asked, annoyed.

"It's a little…incapacitated," the younger exorcist admitted with a wince. He huffed. "Turn over on your back, prick."

"Watch it, bean sprout," the Japanese teenager retorted, turning over on his back. "I'm a paying customer. Kind of. Maybe. Whatever, just get back to the point."

Allen rolled his eyes, leaning closer to the older teenager's face. "Innocence is rather random," he explained in a near whisper, and he ran his fingers along the edge of Kanda's silk towel that hung low on his hips. "It's taken the form of coal, as I have discovered. Why? Not a clue." He huffed. "It's located in the main steam room in the stove, and this establishment simply _loves_ it because it never cools down. Ever. Not only that, but the steam room is really quite hot, and I get terribly drowsy every time I try to retrieve the Innocence—oh, dear, am I making you uncomfortable?"

Kanda, who lay on the mat very, _very_ still, clenched his fists so tightly that his palms were beginning to bleed. "Yes, he grounded out, eyebrow ticking. He smacked the boy's hands away from his hipline.

"Hmph," Allen huffed in offense. "I was only trying to do my job, jerk."

"Your _job_ is to get the fucking Innocence," Kanda snapped back, sitting up and glaring. "Not touch guys on their dicks for a living. Jesus _Christ_ what's wrong with you?"

"…I did not touch you there," the younger exorcist muttered, crossing his arms. Standing up, the British boy stretched his legs. "Well, if you're going to be a prick and reject the massage," he said in an overly annoyed tone. "I'll simply have to lead you to the steam room. Follow me, would you?"

Kanda stood up stiffly, pulling his silk towel higher on his waist. "Hey, brat," he started as he followed the cursed boy. "What's a _tellak_?"

Allen led him to a stone-bricked hallway, thin, white wisps of steam seeping hypnotically out the cracks in the granite. "_Tellak_?" he repeated, an eyebrow cocked. "Well, it's simply a staff member. Or a sexual partner." He smiled. "Oh, here's our room!" They stopped in front of a wooden door, the steam floating out thicker through the space between the door and the ground than in any other room.

"Sexual partner?" Kanda repeated, not quite sure if he heard correctly.

Goddammit, he _knew_ the kid was doing _something_ here on the side!

He reached out the grab the younger male's shoulder, but at the abrupt opening of the door, he recoiled due to the blast of steam that hit the entirety of his body.

"Erk," he coughed, wiping his suddenly sweaty forehead. "What the hell was that, bean sprout?"

"Allen," Allen corrected. "Well, Basak. Or something, I barely even care right now." He pointed at the large metal stove in the center of the room, one that puffed out languid clouds of steam while glowing red internally through the slits in the door. "Do you see the Innocence?" he asked.

"What? Of course not." Kanda sniffed as though insulted. He did, though, walk closer to the stove to get a better look, not exactly enjoying the way the steam became thicker and more stifling the closer he got, and the way the stone tiles on the ground became sticky underneath his bare feet. But, with a look of determination, he bore through all of these obstacles and stepped up to the stove.

He touched the door. "_Shit_!" he cursed, retracting his hand almost immediately.

"Poor boy," Allen murmured from his spot of leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He smiled mockingly. "Are you looking for a kiss? Because I'm not that kind of bloke."

"Yeah, you're more _hands-on_." Kanda blew lightly on his fingertips, irritated at making such a stupid mistake. "I think I see the Innocence. Now what?"

"Well, we either get a pair of prongs and take it and simply bust," the younger exorcist stated with a shrug. "Or we wait until night and put more thinking power into the thievery of a piece of coal. I bet you don't feel like using that brain of yours, like usual, so let's see if we can find some prongs."

"No, we can wait until night." The Japanese exorcist leaned against the wall, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. The steam really was stifling, and it was making him sleepy enough to piss him off.

Allen huffed, obviously feeling rather tired himself. "I told you it makes one drowsy," he complained, walking up to the dozing-off teenager. "Wake up, prick. We can't stay in here forever." He touched Kanda's arm—which was sweaty and made him grimace—with his own dry hand. "Eww."

"Shaddup," Kanda murmured, trying even harder to keep his dark blue eyes open. "Fuck, I hate you _so_ much."

He leaned his head back and slid down the wall, finding it a better spot than nothing for a short nap. He barely got any sleep anyway, having to come to this stupid city for this stupid mission to this stupid Turkish bath after just finishing another stupid mission in stupid _New Orleans_.

He vaguely wondered if the word 'stupid' lost its touch after a few dozen consecutive uses.

Then, he dozed off.

(But, he was really annoyed with how the brat's voice cut into his psyche even as he slept. That was a serious problem that needed rectification.)

---

Later on, when Kanda woke up with Allen's head dangerously close to his crotch and the first masseur standing in the doorway giving them both encouraging gestures, he came to the conclusion it must've been the Innocence.

"Well, that was my assumption as well," Allen admitted, rubbing the sore spot on his head where Kanda punched him.

"Then why the _fuck_ didn't you say it out loud, you talkative bastard?"

"Because I _clearly_ wasn't sure if I was correct or not. Honestly, calm down."

Calm down?

_Calm down?_

This little punk messes up his life—_again_—by accidentally forcing him on this dumbfuck mission in Constanbul in which his perimeters were simply to be molested by a kid three years his junior and then fall asleep because said kid is an _idiot_ who can't keep his hands off of him.

And Allen wants _him_ to calm down.

"Well, I'd suppose we can inform Komui of this new change of plans," the turbaned exorcist said with ease, standing up.

Kanda mimicked him silently.

He'd show _him_ a new change of plans.

**END**

* * *

Okay, personal favorite YW fic number two.

This was just _too fun_ to write, and not just because I don't know what the hell Istanbul—not Constantinople (been a long time gone, Constantinople)—was called in the late 19th century.

But, yes, _tellaks_ were the staffs of Turkish baths, as well as young boys who were lucky enough to also be chosen as the sexual partners of their clients. Lucky _Allen_. :D:D:D:D:D:D "_Teşekkür ederim_" means "Thank you", so I hoped that might've helped. Ugh, so much research, I could write a fucking _essay_.


	7. Eat it All

**Eat it All**

Foreign theme, and this is my, what, third try? Jesus Christ. D:

Well, enjoy the Canon, and it was a lot of—holy shit, Mulan's on, got to finish this fast!

**Disclaimed.**

* * *

"I can't _eat_ this—" Kanda snapped, his voice on the edge of actually whining. He shoved the ceramic bowl from the spot in front of him, scowling. "It's fucking _bugs_."

"Not bugs," Allen corrected. "_Winged_ termites. They're a sacred food in this part of Africa, so I say enjoy—"

Kanda leveled him with a deadpan look. "When have I ever cared what _you_ say?" he asked slowly, cocking an eyebrow. "Seriously, you never say shit worth listening to."

This is true, Allen mused with an agitated smile. The older teenager had a higher chance of dying in a ridiculously unexciting way than listening to Allen when he warns '_hey, there's poison in that cup_' because he _cares_.

Of course, if Kanda was about to fall off a cliff and the only way he could survive was by Allen explaining to him the instructions on how to save his rude, disrespectful, ungrateful _arse_…he'd die. At least excitingly. That's the best way to die when you're under the perpetual control of the Vatican and it's supernatural-of-sorts army, according to Cross.

"What the hell are _you_ smiling about?"

"What _don't_ I smile about?" Allen retorted, smiling wider just for spite. Cross must've had an exciting death—if he were truly dead, that is. They really needed to call Sherlock Holmes and solve that mystery. "Really, how long have we known each other? Months?"

Kanda opened his mouth to snap off some sort of insult (most likely pertaining to his _face_ or his intelligence—if he had the right to talk about either) back, but stopped as he wondered what _didn't_ the younger exorcist smile about.

"Good boy." Allen smiled around his spoonful of the meal provided by the South African innkeeper. He didn't see the problem, as even if it is a meal of the bug variety, it's quite delicious.

The Japanese exorcist looked utterly disgusted. "What the fuck." He looked at his own bowl of cornmeal porridge, flavored artistically with _winged termites_, and gagged. "You're insane."

The innkeeper came back in, a white smile on his dark face. "How is your meal?" he asked kindly in the best English the exorcists had ever heard from someone in such a foreign place like South Africa. It must've been the British colonization, like many others had gone through. The man did have the obvious hints of a British accent, which Allen could recognize with no trouble.

"It's disgusting." Kanda stated immediately, pushing the bowl farther away from himself. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

The man's smile slipped off his face, and he looked utterly devastated at the oldest exorcist's criticism.

"Don't listen to him, Natal," Allen said, throwing Kanda a look demanding he shut-the-_heck-_up. "It's superb! I cannot believe I have survived so long without eating this porridge."

Natal smiled delightedly, clasping his hands together. "Why, that's the greatest compliment I've heard in all my years," the black man said happily. He winked. "I'll leave it to you, then."

"Thank you." The white-haired boy nodded at his exit, and turned back to Kanda exasperatedly. "Have you _no_ bloody manners?" he demanded.

"If you weren't an exorcist, you could make so much stupid money just being a professional _liar_," Kanda snapped back, going off on a tangent that Allen believed was just as stupid as he was.

Allen rolled his gray eyes, pointing the spoon at the nineteen-year-old lazily. "Then, lucky me, because I once had a rather successful career in the con artist occupation." He frowned, looking towards the sunny window despite the fact that it was December, and it should've been quite cold. "Then, I got caught, unfortunately." He was too used to London, then, if sunny weather caught him so off guard.

"Then, you obviously suck. I bet I could do it better."

Like a child, Kanda attempts to get under his skin by commenting on his faults and failures.

And, also like a child, Allen humors him. "No you can't, but that is not the point," he cuts the man off with a dismissive wave of his pale hand, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you going to eat the damned food, or are you going to complain like a little girl?"

"Hey, I'm not you." The Japanese exorcist crossed his arms. "I just don't eat bugs."

"It's just bloody _porridge_, you twit! Just eat it, you need the nutrients."

"I'd rather starve." The man was an _idiot_, to the ninth degree. "Don't give me that look, punk! You're acting like I'm some sort of idiot."

"Um." Allen shoveled some of the porridge into his mouth immediately, trying to stop himself before his mouth answered before his brain. "Yrmm, mmm hrmmm," he mumbled instead, the creamy meal dribbling slowly from between his lips.

"What the fuck? Ew." Kanda scooted his chair father away, scowling. "That's _disgusting_, you brat."

"Hrmmm." The white-haired boy swallowed with ease, smiling. "That was oddly refreshing. You really should eat yours, it's delicious."

"No, you should wash your mouth because you just ate fucking _bugs_."

Kanda was going to eat that porridge, Allen mused cruelly, smiling. No one will waste a perfectly good meal—not on his time. "Actually, the bugs are probably faux, and it's just a ruse meant to scare away the white men, like us."

"I'm not white and you're not a man." Kanda snorted. "Stupid."

Ouch.

That was actually kind of offensive.

Allen reached over for the older teenager's bowl. "If you won't eat it," he muttered. "Then I will."

Kanda snatched the bowl back, obviously just trying to be spiteful.

What a _jerk_.

"You trying to be fat, brat?" he demanded, placing the bowl firmly in front of him. "Don't look at me like I'm some sort of jerk!"

Okay, he couldn't stop himself this time. "Then it's okay, because you _are_." He knocked his Innocence-blessed hand on the underbelly of the wooden table, the surface thumping violently. With the motion, the ceramic bowl jumped and tipped over on Kanda's lap.

Oh. Allen smiled. _And_ the meal was still rather hot?

He loved his God sometimes.

"…Erk." Kanda hissed slowly, an eye ticking and his teeth bared. "My…_crotch_."

"Oh dear. Would you like me to kiss it better?" Wait, that wasn't the right thing to say.

The Japanese exorcist gave him a weird look, and he stood up. "Yeah _right_," he snapped, limping around his chair as the porridge covering the lower abdomen cooled slowly. "I'd rather, uh, eat _bugs_ or something." He walked unsteadily into the kitchens, cursing loudly.

"Are you okay, sir exorcist?" Natal asked worriedly as Kanda shoved past him, and Allen leaned over to see.

Kanda went off. "Do I _look_ okay? Jesus Christ!" The profanity followed the Japanese teenager all the way outside, where he was probably proceeding to strip next to the water supply.

Allen grinned, swirling his spoon in the porridge. "He'll be okay," he said for his comrade, smirking. A smile lit up his face. "By the way—could I get a few more bowls of that porridge?"

At the loud sound of something breaking, Natal jumped while Allen smiled. "Are you sure your friend will be okay?" the African man asked worriedly, rubbing his bald head. "He seems very…er…angry."

"Oh, that's simply default. He wouldn't be precious Kanda if he weren't angry." The white-haired exorcist shook his head in faux-shame. "He'd be disturbing, and nobody truly wants that. More food, please?" He held out his bowl invitingly.

"Ah! Right away, sir exorcist!" Natal took the bowl with a smile. He paused. "Oh, dear, does your friend know that we only use hot water for washing?"

"_Fuck_!" Kanda practically screamed, and more things broke violently.

Allen smiled harder. "Now he does."

He loves foreign countries, sometimes.

**END**

* * *

Okay. Mulan ended about the same time I finished this last fic, and it was damned hard to pay attention to my computer while Shang was all _shirtless_ and stuff and I'm so straight, rulers can't keep up. :3

So. It was really fun, you guys. :D When I read a good majority of the Yullen Week submissions (of which I need to review), there was a hell of a lot of drama. I wanted to put a smile on the reader's face, because I grinned while writing each and every one of these stories. :) Hopefully I succeeded (especially in making Divva smile, she's super important to me).

Okay. :D I'm done.

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. ;)

The Pup loves you!


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